


Breathe, You'll Be Fine - Part III

by Persephone



Series: Willing to Take the Risk [8]
Category: Valentine's Day (2010)
Genre: Bradley Cooper - Freeform, Canon Gay Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Comedy, Eric Dane - Freeform, Iowa, M/M, Rare Characters, Rare Fandoms, Rare Pairing, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 17:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone/pseuds/Persephone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holden comes to town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Are we really going to do this, Sean? The fact that he’s right here, in town, and you’re not going to see him?”

“Allison, I can’t.”

“ _Why_ though?”

He pressed his lips tight. “Because, I told you. He _hurt_ me.”

“Sweetie…”

“If his coming to town is meant to be somehow good for me, then Allison, it’s coming too soon. And I don’t think I can handle it.”

“Kiddo, I don’t think you have a choice.”

He stared at the floor of the truck.

“G’night, Sean. I gotta get to bed.”

She had hung up.

He restarted the truck, drove half another mile from her place and pulled over again. 

Bending over, he cradled his head against the steering wheel. Why was Holden doing this? Why had he come?

But what he was truly struggling with was a need to call Holden. He had missed him so terribly, and knowing he was just minutes away and could comfort him was making him so needful he could barely move otherwise.

This was the cause of his dilemma. Going back to Holden again and again, unresolved feelings be damned. 

It was the habit he was trying to break. It was what he wished everyone in his life would understand. Being in love with Holden wasn’t the problem. He wasn’t not running from that. It was the taste of bitter failure he couldn’t stomach anymore. Being unable to stop doing something even when it wasn’t good for him. He was trying to have a backbone.

Reaching into his winter vest, he pulled out his phone and tapped Holden’s number, bringing it to his ear. He listened to it ring just once.

“Holden, why’d you come?” he whispered as soon as Holden answered.

“I’m not here to make things difficult for you.”

“Then why’d you come?”

“I’m here to show you support,” Holden said, speaking matter-of-factly, unfazed by his lack of preamble. “I didn’t think I could do that from L.A.”

“I don’t need support.” 

Holden sounded different. _Surer._ Nothing like how he had been when he had left L.A. The thought didn’t bring him comfort.

“I need—”

“I know,” Holden said. “Time. And I get that. I’m not here to force anything. We’re not here on a schedule.”

“ _We’re_ not here at all. _I’m_ here. You don’t have to be here. Don’t you have work? How long do you plan on being here?”

~*~

Stationed in front of the mirror brushing his teeth, he listened to Sean try to talk his way out of their inevitable next few days together. And he realized one thing. Petey had been right.

The only things that scared him were true unknowns.

He had been paralyzed when he had seen nothing but a specter on their horizon. But now that the problem had shown itself in the cold light of day it need only get ready to be solved.

It boiled down to Sean needing time to get over his anger. Though he wasn’t allowed to call it that since Sean was insistent that he wasn’t angry. He was just…blocked. 

However, he had no problem looking difficult facts in the face. So he wasn’t going to pretend it was anything else.

“Sean,” he said, lowering his toothbrush. “I’m not letting you do this alone. You’re going to have to accept that.”

“Holden—” 

He spat into the sink, licked his lips. “No. It’s happening this way. Granted I don’t have the first clue about managing a long term relationship. But I do know my part in all of this. And I’m a _pro_ at being in love with you. You don’t have to see me, talk to me, or be anywhere around me if you don’t want to. But if and when you do need to talk, you’ll know where to find me.”

There was silence.

He quietly resumed brushing his teeth.

“Are we good?”

Sean quietly hung up.

 _Perfect,_ he sighed, lowering the phone. Finishing up at the sink, he went back into the suite’s bedroom.

Allison’s visit, on the other hand, had been fantastic.

Having only ever seen pictures of her on Sean’s computer, and not having a single clue as to what her perception of him might be, he had been deeply moved when she had warmly hugged him as if she had known him all her life.

She had asked about his flight and whether he’d had any trouble settling in, and he had confirmed that everything had gone well. And had tried not to seem too enthusiastic, seeing as she had just met him and had no reason to suspect that he might have instantly fallen in love with her.

She was short, plump, round everywhere like a Vargas girl, and looked nothing like her forty-three years. Aside from a few strands of grey hair falling becomingly at her temple, she could easily have passed for a woman in her thirties. She certainly had the energy to prove it. And though she looked a lot like Sean she seemed to have a personality opposite of his. 

She was forceful where he was placid, sharp with her words where he knew Sean would phrase himself mildly. She had been strong, thoughtful, and unafraid.

It had been exactly what he needed to see.

Pulling back the covers, he got into the blaring empty king-sized bed. He got comfortable and brought up his phone.

Dr. Markham had said to give Sean time. And part of him was worried that he might be crowding Sean, the very thing he had been afraid of in the fall. That the staccato nature of their relationship was causing him to become needy without his being fully aware of it.

But he didn’t believe, however, that his presence in Johnston was necessarily contrary to Dr. Markham’s recommendations.

It was time Sean needed, not space—though he was getting plenty of that too. But he could give Sean time, no problem. The rest of their lives if that was what Sean needed. He was in no rush— just as long as Sean didn’t think the answer lay in going off and finding himself a replacement boyfriend who did as he was told.

Going through his messages, he saw that there was one from Kate who was thrilled for him that he was spending the Super Bowl with Sean in his hometown.

He smiled at the exclamation point-filled text, thinking that she was probably beside herself with the idea of being in Johnston for the Super Bowl. She would have loved to have brought her family along. For years he had ignored the event, and now he respected it if only out of appreciation that others would kill to be in his position.

There was voicemail from his dad, which he deleted without listening to. After the disaster that had been their dinner he was more than fine with not talking to him for a while.

He set the phone on the nightstand and turned onto his back. Staring up at the ceiling, he let out a long breath.

Elliot had been right when he had said that Sean was high maintenance. And that might be putting it mildly. He had never met anyone so in need of special handling. But the fact was that, and this was despite what anyone might have to say, he found that fucking sexy. And that was damn lucky for Sean.

Closing his eyes, he visualized himself with Sean at his happiest. Sean was grinning at him for reasons his mind didn’t think it necessary to fill in, seated low in an armchair and staring attentively at him. He was sitting on Sean’s knees, facing him, recounting some indecent that seemed interesting enough from the day. He knew Sean could die of boredom listening to strategies in real estate markets, but Sean always like to hear him tell a story, as though it was some crazy adventure the two of them were on. So Sean would sit there listening, his hands moving on his hips, his world decreased to just two.

It was what they had. What they _were._ Simply happy together no matter what their issues. For three years they had done it without a single guarantee. And now that they had actually committed he saw no reason at all for them to fail.

Positive thoughts logged firmly in mind, he turned, pulling one of the body pillows to him, and flung his leg over it. Then closing his eyes, he fell into a very peaceful sleep.

~*~

He had a fucking horrible night. 

Sleeping fitfully, he tossed and turned like the bed in his old bedroom was suddenly full of rocks. Before dawn he was fully awake and had swung his legs out of bed.

He sat staring groggily at the floor, feeling as though he had just hiked the Himalayas.

He got up and pulled on jeans and a warm jersey and found a warm pair of house slippers, and headed downstairs to get himself more coffee than his body would know what to do with.

In the kitchen he rumbled a greeting to his mother, who was getting stuff ready for the day. The Super Bowl cookout was in three days… but he didn’t want to think about that.

Focused on searching thorough the cabinets for the biggest mug he could find, he wasn’t conscious that she hadn’t greeted him back, until she spoke.

“Allison tells me Holden is in town.”

The words involuntarily stopping him. He realized he had never contemplated hearing Holden’s name from her lips.

Holden was L.A. This was his real life.

And as soon as he had the thought he wondered what in God’s name it meant. 

“Yeah,” he replied to her, his voice barely above a croak. He found the mug he was looking for and closed the cabinet. He poured himself a gallon of coffee. 

“Did you ask him to come?” she asked, quietly.

“Hell no.”

“He came on his own? Without you asking?”

“He does that.”

His mother was silent, only the sounds of her moving around the kitchen indicating her presence.

He set the carafe back into the coffeemaker and lifted the mug to his lips, taking a breath. 

And then he stood there staring out at the backyard, at the melted snow and grass, contemplating the things he was about to do right and wrong. Or not at all. 

He had all but forgotten he wasn’t alone in the kitchen when suddenly he felt his mother’s arm going around his waist. She dropped her head to his shoulder and remained silent. And he was glad she wasn’t one to make him talk if he didn’t want to.

“Be nice to him, dear,” she then said in her quiet voice.

It made him take a deep breath.

And after a while he said, “I should go get ready to take Deena to school.”

Pressing a soft kiss into his shoulder, she wordlessly let him go.

~*~

Davey, however, was choosing to be a real asshole about the turn of events.

He kept sending him homoerotic texts all morning.

Dropping Deena off at school and promising to be there to pick her up at the end of the day—it broke his heart each time knowing it was his random disappearances in her life that made her paranoid like that—he kept having to delete the ridiculous messages.

They were coming in consistently every half hour or so, like spam. And they were all signed “the Inn five seconds from you.”

Propping himself against his dad’s truck, he nodded to a passing mother who, son in tow, was undressing him with her eyes. 

He deleted the latest one before tapping Davey’s number.

“How about I forward these to Michelle and tell her you’re hitting on me?” he asked when Davey answered.

Davey chuckled. “She already thinks we did it in high school, loser. Plus she knows your guy’s in town. And that you’re being a dick about seeing him.”

“I’m being a dick,” he said pointedly.

“You’re being _something._ ”

“The guy who’s hanging up on your ass, for starters.”

He disconnected, his heart having skipped too many beats for him to continue comfortably. He opened the truck and got in. It was only Thursday morning. He needed to conserve his strength.

Holden was having dinner with Kay and Allison tonight, where, he was sure, they would have lots to talk about. All the years of his talking about Holden coming to a wonderful climax.

It wasn’t that he was feeling spiteful or ungrateful. He just did not understand how any of this was good for him, when even the doctor had said he needed time.

~*~

Thursday morning for him dawned warm and toasty. At least in his bed.

According his weather app it was thirty degrees outside. 

He took a moment and laid there staring out at the dreary, snowy scenery outside the picture window, contemplating the fact that in L.A. it was going to be seventy-six degrees. And sunny.

Sighing, he pushed back the covers and got out of bed. Work and something sweet to eat usually went a long way.

He had gone over to the writing table and picked up the room service menu when his phone buzzed once. It was a text.

Telling himself not to get his hopes up, and therefore willfully ignoring why he had left it on all night in the first place, he picked up the phone and checked the message.

It was a text from Sean’s sister-in-law, Kay. It said, “Hey you! This is Kay! Wanna grab breakfast?”

He smiled with pleasure. Allison, who had invited him to pretty much everything they were doing for the Super Bowl weekend, and now her, uninvited. Score _two_ for him. 

He texted her back, “Definitely,” with a smiley face.

~*~


	2. Chapter 2

At eight in the morning the coffeeshop was bustling. And it smelled like heaven.

Standing to one side, he kept to one side from the doors and looked around for her, Sean’s equally beloved “other sister.”

He found her in a literal blink, then sort of laughed at himself. He was forgetting where he was. In a population of ninety percent German, English, and Irish descent, it was not that hard to do. In L.A. he’d have to hold up a sign for her.

Though his work never brought him to the Midwest, he, like everyone else in America knew what the people by and large looked like. Still he was stunned by the homogeneity of the population. He honestly didn’t think he had seen this many fair-haired, fair skinned people outside of Scandinavia.

Tall, Chinese, and, according to Sean, easy going as a breeze, she was rushing towards him with her arms wide open. Her eyes were wide and her face completely lit up.

“Oh my goodness! Look at you!” she cried. “Sean’s baby! You’re adorable!” and flung her arms around him in a bone crushing hug.

Laughing, and gasping for air, he hugged her back, his arms just as tight around her. He moved a little more out of the way as he realized they were blocking some of the entryway and she wasn’t seeming to care.

She pulled back and stood there petting and cooing at him, while he stood smiling his head off. This was awesome.

Suddenly, still holding his arm, she placed her free hand over her heart and made a comical sad face at him. He burst into laughter.

“Don’t laugh,” she mewled. “Allison told me he’s still being a grumpy bear. Are you okay, sweetie?”

“I’m fine,” he said, waving a hand dismissively, resolutely ignoring his heart which wanted him to ask her to call Sean right now.

“Aw…let’s get a seat and you can tell Aunty Kay all about it. But first…” She turned, still clutching his hand, and began walking him toward the center of the shop. “There’s someone you have to meet.”

She walked him past the line of patrons at the counter and stopped when they were standing on the other side, facing the staff work area behind.

Calling to someone back there, while he stared at an array of eye popping muffins the size of grapefruits, she waved over a burly woman in her fifties. The woman looked over, wiped her hands off her aprons and hurried over.

“Louise,” Kay said, monumentally. “Take a guess at who this is.”

The woman, in her early fifties and with an otherwise stern expression, frowned in confusion at him. 

She looked at him a little longer, and then her eyes simply lit up.

“Oh my God,” she gasped.

“Right?” Kay said elatedly.

“Oh, it’s _so_ nice to meet you,” Louise said, her hands plastered on either side of her face. She looked a little teary. “I wish I could give you a hug,” she whispered emotionally. “But I’m stuck back here. You go sit down and I’ll come by in a little bit.” She waved her finger toward a table behind them. “Don’t go anywhere until I’ve come to see you!”

“No problem,” he told her with a smile, strangely okay with not knowing what was going on.

“Don’t wait at the counter,” she cried to Kay, who had been about to. “Take him and go sit down! We’re gonna feed him so well!” Then she rushed back toward the kitchen.

“That’s Louise,” Kay told him as they left for a table. “She used to be the lunch lady when Sean was in high school.”

He turned a surprised look at her. “Really?”

“Yup. And boy did she suffer. Sean and Davey used to give her _ulcers._ And then when Sean signed with the Chargers he gave her the money to start this coffeeshop.”

He stopped in his tracks and looked at her. She laughed, nudging him forward. 

“You’re in his hometown. By the time you’re ready to leave, you’d have found out _everything_ you ever wanted to know about your papa bear.”

~*~

He had been talking to Kay for sometime, immersed in her riveted eyes and thirst for juicy details, about his own life mostly—she seemed to be saving whatever she wanted to know about him and Sean for their dinner—when Sean walked in.

He thought, given how badly he had wanted to see just this, that he was simply imagining things. And given the fact that Sean now had...a full growth of beard, he was sure that that was the case.

But standing by the doors, Sean was pulling his gloves off, running a hand through his hair and letting out a short, hard breath, and he had all but _felt_ all of it.

It was real all right.

He stared with absorbed attention as Sean greeted the people saying hello to him, proceeding slowly and making his way around the line of customers that extended into the middle of the coffeeshop.

Kay, about to take a bite of her bagel, noticed that he had stopped talking and turned over her shoulder to follow his line of sight. She broke into a smile.

Wordlessly, they both watched.

Sean went to the kitchen side of the counter, to the very spot where he had just met Louise, and had a brief exchange with one of the staff. The man pushed over bagged boxes, an order which Sean had evidently called in. And listening to Sean thank him, he watched in slight disbelief thinking that it might not happen, that Sean might leave without seeing him.

Then his thoughts were taken over by something else entirely.

Sean had reached for the handles, hefting the bags over the counter, and he was going dry mouthed at the sight of Sean’s muscles flexing and bulging in the tight sleeves of his shirt. He was in a winter vest, unzipped in the front, and his shirt was pulling up from the waist of his jeans to reveal additional layers of soft, clingy clothing. And as Sean straightened, he was flashed a patch of smoky, dark blond belly hair, arrowing straight for the heavy leather belt around his hips.

He fell deathly silent at the table.

When he flicked a look at Kay, she was busy wiping cream off her bagel and occupying herself in immense amusement.

Not quite sure how to say anything at all, he kept silent. His eyes went back to where Louise, finally having seen Sean, was pointing excitedly in their direction.

Sean turned and looked over his shoulder, and froze.

He waited to see what would happen next. Quite a few patrons, he noticed, had also seen what was happening and had stopped what they were doing to see what would happen. Sean was staring at him as if he had simply appeared there from out of thin air. He tried not to smile, it dawning on him that Sean must have been in actual denial about his presence in town.

Slowly, he lifted a hand and gave Sean a brief wave.

Long seconds passed. Then Sean, very slowly, began walking over.

He took a small breath and waited. Sean came closer and closer, getting bigger and bigger, until he was about to look over and visually, and strenuously, commit fellatio. Then Sean had reached their table and was leaning over, breathing all over him, then kissing him on the cheek, his new growth of beard tickling him on the mouth.

His brain fractured.

Turning mindlessly, he faced the sweet-smelling chest, still hovering at eye level, and breathed in a lungful of air with anything on his face that could inhale. For his mental health—or Sean’s physically safety—he had simply _forgotten_ all this.

Oh, fuck, was it on.

As a soft round of applause quietly floated up from around the coffeeshop, he gradually came back to himself.

Sean, straightening, muttered a muffled hello to Kay, and without waiting for her response began pushing his way, foot by foot, past the tables around them and back towards the entrance. In a few more seconds, Sean was gone from the coffeeshop as if none of it had happened. 

He peeled his gaze from the entrance and brought it back to Kay. She and half the patrons were staring at him, waiting expectantly for his reaction. He waved a hand assuringly for anyone who was watching. 

“It’s okay,” he said mildly. “I know him.”

There was laughter, including from Kay, and he smiled at having successfully cleared the first, public hurdle.

~*~

Six hours later, on the sidelines with the high school coaches, his heart was still beating too strongly for its own good.

He had gone into Baker’s as a last minute decision, meaning to bring something good to eat for the LGBT parents group he had met with that morning. The meeting had gone well and he ought to be thinking about that, instead he was still stuck on his shock from this morning.

He hadn’t expected…that.

Seeing Holden so soon, sure— _God damn it, Kay_ —but even then he hadn’t expected that Holden would look so… _beautiful._

He wondered whether he had been drugged or something, but Holden looked even more beautiful than the memories he had been stifling.

How could that have happened in a matter of one week?

It was a strange, unfair thing to happen on top of everything else.

But he had thought he handled it well. He had only kissed him because of the setting, and Holden hadn’t misbehaved in any manner.

But his heart wouldn’t calm the fuck down.

A text suddenly trilled in his vest pocket. Reaching inside, he pulled out his phone and saw a text from Davey, pretending to be oblivious.

“See at your pop’s tonight?” the text read. “Lots to get done.”

He gazed at the words. The task was for his dad for the cookout this weekend. Otherwise he would have put Davey off for days. But, he couldn’t start avoiding Davey as well.

“Yeah,” he texted back. “Be nice.”

Davey didn’t reply. But even from here he could feel him laughing.

~*~

“Ally, I couldn’t believe it,” Kay said flatly. “You should have seen it. He didn’t even stay long enough for me to say hi. I would never have taken Sean for a coward. How the hell does he score all those touchdowns?”

“He’s being a little shit of a little brother, is what it is,” Allison said darkly, scooping seafood pasta onto his plate.

He quietly thanked her, lowering his plate to his place setting. He was looking for a place to jump in, but the women sounded really upset, so he was just hanging on for the right moment.

“I can’t believe it’s too much for him to say, hey, thanks for the decency of coming,” Allison said. “Hope the damn hotel room’s all right.”

“It’s not a problem,” he quickly said, protectiveness swelling too intensely inside him. “I don’t expect resolutions overnight. It’s not why I came. I’m here to support him, that’s all. I-I don’t need him to show me affection in public to feel okay with it.”

Kay turned to Allison. “Listen to this guy. He might turn out to be a little shit too.”

He laughed while Allison still looked upset. But it seemed to have broken her tension a little.

Both she and Kay were the same age, from what Sean told him having met fifteen years ago at a John Deere conference, Allison as a rep for the company and Kay as a consultant. They had been together ever since, and had been married for nine, though they had waited until they could get married _somewhere,_ in their case Massachusetts in 2004, before deciding on having a baby.

He had known almost from their first date that Sean had an older sister whom he was very close to, and that he loved her to distraction. Sean had told him they were both the rocks in his life. And from just one day of being around them, he thought he was beginning to understand what that meant. 

It was actually terrifying. Knowing there was someone there, demanding that you not take the easy route, it was somehow harder to make excuses for yourself.

And the fact that it was out of unconditional love and not out of a need for control, like his father, made it all the more…vital.

Allison sighed. “You know I told him he was invited tonight,” she said, looking at her watch. “But it’s already going on two hours.”

He smiled. “That’s not enough time for Sean to get out of the shower.”

Kay, cutting up her pasta, looked up and blinked at him. Allison snorted, then burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, that’s hysterical,” Kay cried.

“And so true,” Allison said, shaking with laughter.

“Who’d have thought you’d be this funny,” Kay said went on, putting down her fork. “You know, we thought you’d be a bit of a meanie, right? You do have, like, a bitch’s penthouse. We love it though.”

“Thank you,” he replied, wondering when Sean had been interested enough in his place to take pictures to show them. He looked interestedly at Kay. “Why did you think I’d be meaner? Presuming the penthouse was the last straw?”

Kay chuckled, then tilted her head at Allison. “Ally?”

“Well,” Allison said, her tone turning serious, in a way that made him understand that the conversation had finally moved to why they were there.

“We heard a lot about you over the years, as you can well imagine. And after listening to Sean complain about you for—”

“He didn’t necessarily complain,” Kay gently interrupted. “More like, he experienced a lot of frustrations over you, over the years, which he occasionally verbalized in strenuous tones.”

“So after listening to Sean _strenuously verbalize_ about you over the years,” Allison said without skipping a beat, making Kay smile. “We came to the conclusion that you didn’t really care all that much about his emotional well being.”

He kept his eyes on his plate the entire time, caught by how ashamed he was of this moment, knowing what they had been about to say.

“I cared,” he said softly.

But it was embarrassing how close it came to the truth at the time.

When he looked up they were both closely observing him, Kay with her chin in her hand, and Allison simply gazing intently at him.

“Then why,” Allison softly asked. “Did he have so much trouble with you?”

His eyes dropped like stones to his plate. This was the moment he never wanted to talk about with anyone.

He was remembering what Elliot had said about it being good to talk about his feelings for Sean, that it meant he cared. And he understood that.

But it was very difficult to go from a place of it being just him and Sean doing their best to work things out, and, he supposed, being able to blame each other for the things they couldn’t figure out, to now having others weigh in. 

Tightening his resolve, he told himself to just start.

But the words still wouldn’t come. Lifting his gaze to them, he tightly rolled his lips.

“Sorry,” he said, feeling himself blushing. “I think I…just need a minute.”

“Holden,” Kay said gently. “I’ve known Sean since he was a senior in college, and we’ve talked with him regularly throughout his career. Sean had never, expect when prodded, and even then he’d just give you grunts here and there, but he never once talked about a single man he dated.”

He looked at Allison, knowing that wasn’t right, especially considering how close he was to them.

But Allison only shrugged. “We didn’t even _know_ whether or not he dated,” she told him.

“But wasn’t that because he was in the league?”

Allison slowly shook her head. He then noticed a sadness suddenly around her, as though she was carrying a memory that still burdened her.

She looked away. 

“My coming out was…rough on him.”

His heart revved hard. He stared at her.

“He was just a kid when it all went down,” she said, hedging. “Kind of caught in the crossfire. But afterward talking about boys became…hazy.”

He waited, but nothing more seemed forthcoming.

He glanced at Kay, who was back to watching him interestedly though silently.

“Not a word about a single man,” Allison continued, “until a few years ago. When he just started mentioning your name.”

“And then there was no stopping it,” Kay said. “It was Holden this, Holden that, why hasn’t he called, when is he going to get his act together, he’s driving me crazy.”

He stared speechlessly at her.

“It was like a freaking miracle,” Allison said. “I had to ask Kay whether we’d always known about this Holden and somehow just forgot.”

“And he didn’t even seem aware that he was talking about it all of a sudden. It was as if everything else was suddenly just not relevant.”

His heart was going crazy in his chest. He was going to have an ordeal keeping his hands off Sean.

“So tell us to butt out anytime,” Allison told him. “But add to that what you were able to make him do last Valentine’s Day in front of the whole world and even my parents—God knows not the most emotive people you’ll ever meet—have accepted you sight unseen.” 

She paused, apparently wanting to make sure he understood that what she was saying wasn’t mere sentiment. 

“You’re family now. Just as much a little brother to us as that terrorist Davey. So know that we’re not here to take sides. We just want to know what’s going on.”

“That’s all,” Kay said gently. “Because Sean is hurting, and you’re hurting, and nobody seems to understand why.”

He was silent for a long time, feeling very strange.

But there was too much going on inside him for him to start figuring out, so he simply said the words echoing through his mind.

“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

They nodded, and waited to see what he would do.

And he decided that he would talk. And he would be frank about all of it, and in a way that he hadn’t done for himself before in the past; leaving himself no room to back into a safe spot.

“Even when I was…seeing other people,” he said carefully, not wanting to leave anything out. “I kept him on a string. I never wanted to hurt his feelings, but I didn’t want to let him go either. And I thought I was doing it in a way that would spare his feelings, but in the end he still got hurt.”

Kay, her chin still in her hand, gazed at him. “But why were you always breaking up with him?”

“Right,” Allison said. “Was he doing something wrong?”

He glanced self-consciously at her. “Have you met your brother? For someone like me, he couldn’t be real. I kept walking out every three months just so I could feel my feet touch the ground. He didn’t do anything wrong. I can honestly say, not ever. And for someone who wasn’t even out?” He shook his head. “He treated me like we had been partners all our lives. I could find no fault in that. I only doubted myself every step of the way. And just fell harder and harder each time I went back.”

Moments passed after he finished talking, in which neither of them said a word, but stared in surprise at him.

“Have you told him any of this?” Allison asked.

“Not in so many words, no. But I’m pretty sure he knows most of it.”

Kay finally pulled her hand from her chin, widening her arm. “So what the fuck is he doing here?” she said in a confused voice. “Since when is an apology not enough?”

He looked quickly at Allison. It was the thing that was confusing him too. 

And now with her hesitating about the circumstances surrounding her coming out, he had to wonder whether there was something going on there.

But Allison’s eyes, fastened on him, where looking for something else from him.

“How much,” she asked quietly, “would you say you loved him?”

He threw her a look, almost laughing at the question. But he saw she was being perfectly serious. 

His amusement partially fell away, and shook his head at her, confusion taking over his face.

“Are you being serious? I think you should understand that I’m about to embarrass myself. Do you want that answer on a scale of one to fifty, on the shamelessly insane about him meter, or on the deranged stalker watch list?”

Kay cracked up, and Allison merely smiled. “How about the shamelessly insane about him meter?” she said.

“All right,” he said, sitting back, ignoring the color flooding his face. “On the shamelessly insane about him meter, I’m…not ashamed of probably having deprived a child of his football gloves in Cincinnati last fall. I’m…not ashamed of having raided the backlog of Sports Illustrated for…useful images of him, I’m certainly not ashamed of my used football pants collection from eBay. And last but not least, I’m not ashamed of never actually having done _much_ right by him, but still not knowing when to leave him alone.” 

He made a mental tally. “So what does that make it? The meter tops at a hundred.”

Allison was shaking her head and Kay was peeling with laughter. 

“One-fifty,” Kay told him.

“Awesome,” he replied.

Kay picked up her fork, wiping her eyes, and they all resumed their meal. She turned to Allison with a deep smile. “That is the sweetest thing.”

“It really is,” Allison replied in a quiet, distracted manner. “Which is why I’m all the more confused now.”

~*~

“You get the feeling your folks are punishing us at this point?”

“Only for the last ten years or so.”

Davey tossed his wrench and sat back against the wooden rails of the deck.

Feeling the same pain, he knelt back scratching the back of his head, and surveyed the large cardboard box and iron parts strewn about the deck.

His dad had bought a new fire pit for the cookout on Sunday, instructing that they to put it together. His dad had said it wouldn’t take them more than two hours, but it was obvious from the size of the thing that it would take more than a day.

His parents had long ago formed the habit of getting out of the way whenever he and Davey were involved in organizing anything, which had been a good idea when they had been younger, but now it just felt like they were repaying them every chance they got for years of suffering at their teenaged hands.

About telling him to pick up his wrench, he glanced at him and found Davey surveying him, arms draped on his knees.

He picked up a wrought rod. Against his better judgment, he asked. “What?”

“You mind if I go take a look?”

Struggling to make the bar fit into the too-tight hole, he casually said yeah, he minded.

He needed no explanation for what Davey was asking. He’d been expecting the question for over twenty-four hours.

“He’s at Greenbriar with the sisters.”

“I heard you, and I said no.”

“What, are you gonna beat me up if I do?”

“I just might.”

Davey snorted quietly. “You can’t tell me you’re not thinking about him all alone up in that hotel room.”

“I’m not telling you squat of what I’m thinking.”

“Who says you have to,” Davey said slyly, openly staring at him. “You fucking slut.”

“I’ll fucking kill you for that.”

“Get up there you fucking pussy. Nobody told you to propose marriage to the guy. But after you get his hopes up, you dump him and then ignore him in your hometown? That’s cold.”

“I didn’t ask him to come.”

“You asked him to be your fucking _wife,_ Jay.” Davey stopped. “Wait. Is that how it works if you’re gay? Are you gonna be the husband and is he gonna be the wife?”

“Maybe if one of us was a woman,” he said, sitting back once more to survey their lack of progress. “Or, you can stop talking any time now.”

“Oh, wait,” Davey said slowly, in his own space. “Why did I just say that? Of course you’re gonna be the wife. Fucking flowers and candlelit dinners…all that damn Joss Stone. How the _fuck_ did I not know you wanted some strong but loving man in your life.”

He was laughing his ass off in spite of himself.

“Why’re you laughing?” Davey said. “This just took on another dimension of real.”

Curtailing his amusement, he narrowed his eyes at Davey, not liking the sound of that.

Davey flipped over his hands. “Jay, he’s going to be your husband. _I’m_ a husband. I take this stuff seriously.”

His heart was tripping all over itself. He lifted a finger and pinned his eyes on Davey. 

“I will kick your fucking ass if you go anywhere near him.”

Davey’s face broke into an idiotic grin. He dropped his head.

“Lemme see those hands,” he demanded, and Davey raised them both in capitulation. “Swear it, asshole.”

Davey fought off his own amusement, and said, “I swear on all we hold sacred…that I won’t touch your stuff.”

He went back to work, reaching for another rod as Davey finally rejoined him, paying no attention to the fact that Davey’s grin hadn’t gone anywhere.

~*~

“Sean, you want to come in here for a second?”

“Not really.”

He stood in the driveway of Allison’s house, staring at her.

He was waiting, in the grey winter morning, to take Deena to school.

Allison, standing in doorway, was holding his eyes.

Watching her narrowed her eyes, he knew he was risking a headlock. But it was a chance he was willing to take. And she’d have to catch him first.

Hands on his hips, his eyes hidden under the short brim of his wool hat, he waited for her to send Deena out. It was a defensive posture, but he couldn’t help himself. And he wasn’t about to flinch under her glare.

Turning slowly, she tilted her head back and yelled into the house. “Deena, time to go! Sean’s waiting.”

“Coming!”

Tense seconds later Deena bounded out of the house. She stopped, ran back and gave her mother a kiss.

She got to him and he picked her up, hefting her through the passenger side window, her preferred way of getting into the truck.

“Have a nice day,” Allison said heavily from the doorway, turning back into the house.

“You too, mommy!” Deena called back.

He got in, saying nothing, and started up the truck. He had survived Thursday. He was sure he could survive another day.

 _Until evening you mean,_ his mind quietly reminded him. He clutched the passengers seat and turned around, backing out of the driveway while Deena struck up a self-entertaining conversation.

Yeah, till tonight. He’d deal.

~*~


	3. Chapter 3

Friday, bright and early, he decided he’d go on a sightseeing adventure through Johnston. 

So, bundled up, he took the elevators into the lobby, saying good morning to the receptionist as he walked by.

“Good morning, Mr. Wilson,” she said cheerily back. “How are you liking the cold?”

He smiled, shaking his head in defeat. “It’s great,” he said. “Antarctica in the summer.”

She laughed pleasantly. “Just let us know if there’s anything more we can do for you. And please give our regards to Sean.”

He stopped, looking interestedly at her. “You guys know him here?”

Her placid smile unchanging, she blinked at him as if he was mentally challenged.

“Oh, right,” he said, giving his head a quick shake. “Of course. I will.”

“Thanks,” she said, beaming. “Have a lovely day.”

“You too.”

He stepped out of the hotel into the frigid parking lot, laughing at himself. He had forgotten where the hell he was.

~*~

Creeping along at ten miles per hour, he kept his Audi going along the wide streets. The rental agent at the airport counter had promised that the car was made for people “who didn’t regularly drive in snowy conditions.” For people who didn’t regularly die in snowy conditions, maybe was what he had meant. 

The last time he had driven himself on snow and ice, he had been in college and there had been a frat party to get to. Well, God help him now.

Fear of death notwithstanding, he braved the outing, and the experience of driving through Sean’s hometown turned out to be an unexpected delight.

It was a typical Midwestern town, the type been made familiar to Americans as the picture of the idyllic life—wide asphalt streets, large green lawns, neighbors walking their dogs. Being school hours, however, there were no children playing on the sidewalks. But it was a town that gave off a genuine feeling of neighborliness, as if under all the picture perfect images, real people actually existed.

Layered, as it was, with all things Super Bowl, some of it unabashedly garish, it further added to the feeling of relaxation and friendliness. 

And Johnston was full of billboards of Sean.

Sometimes it struck him but most times it simply escaped him, how massive a figure Sean was in so many people’s lives. It was like seeing images of Jesus all over the town, if Jesus had come from Johnston, Iowa. The largest one by far was one situated right on the entrance to town coming in from the Interstate, which declared under a dramatic capture of Sean on the football field: _Welcome Home Sean Jackson—NFL Quarterback Sensation & Johnston Hometown Legend._

He had almost crashed his car looking at that one Wednesday night.

But his favorite by far was a local LGBT one of Sean’s grinning face. Looking down on him as he drove by it on the main street in town, it read _Proud to be a Legend,_ with the “proud” printed in the rainbow colors. 

Smiling with his head somewhere in the clouds, he waved, absently, back to a twenty-something guy waving frantically at him. He wondered whether the man was mistaking him for someone else. Then he realized the guy was flagged for him to stop.

He slowed the car down and pulled over, gingerly pressing the button to lower the window as the man bounded up to him.

“Hi!” the guy said animatedly, his eyes wide and staring intensely at him. “I’m Josh!”

“Hi, Josh,” he replied, tentatively.

“Are you going to breakfast at Baker’s?”

“Um…I hadn’t thought of it, but yeah, why not.”

“Uh, so fantastic. And I just have to say, by the way, you’re gorgeous. Oh my God, I can feel my heart going pitter patter.”

“Thank…you.”

“And Bootleggers was a _dream._ We missed you there.”

Which confirmed that Josh was mistaking him for someone else. 

Josh began to back away, waving cutely at him. “Well, I’ll see you later. Give Sean my love.”

…or not.

“Sure…” he said mostly to himself, as Josh was long back on the other side of the street, happily pushing his way into a pizza parlor.

Slowly pushing the window lift button, he shifted the car back into gear. 

Deciding he would stop at Baker’s after all, he navigated his way to the coffeeshop…where he got mobbed.

~*~

He was sitting at a table by himself because he had walked into the coffeeshop and got in line, then waved hi to Louise who he had seen behind the counter.

She had called back, “Hi, honey!” and then had asked him what he was doing. He had told her he was just out for a drive and getting some hot chocolate and muffins, and she had said no, she meant what was he doing in line.

And so he had seated himself at her insistence and had to be waited to be specially served like the day before when he had had breakfast with Kay.

It had made him slightly self-conscious, seeing as it was because of Sean he was getting the special treatment, but he had quickly sat down before it brought any more attention on him.

He needn’t have bothered. Within seconds of taking his seat he was hosting a mini-get together at his table.

Total strangers came over and introduced themselves, some shaking his hand or hugging him, and others more subtly stroking his chest while saying their hellos. And just about all of them took pictures with him.

Even foreshadowed by the Josh incident, it felt very weird to have wandered into this strange world in which he was a known celebrity. 

At first hesitant, wondering as to the point of all of it, he eventually obliged upon recognizing he had no real problems with it.

By the time his massive mug of whipped cream topped hot chocolate, accompanied by a truly sinful, _enormous_ apple streusel with-a-cherry-on-top muffin arrived, he was in the throes of finding it all normal.

Getting into the swing of things, he even went along when one woman requested that his engagement ring be prominently featured in her picture.

He smiled and held up his hand, leaning a little closer as she posed and held up her camera. She took the picture and moved to sit across from him.

“Are you guys thinking about having your wedding somewhere in town?” she asked excitedly, following every movement as he picked up and sipped his hot chocolate. “Everyone’s saying it’s why you’re here.”

He raised his eyebrows, it never having occurred to him that it might look that way.

He noticed that a couple of people sitting at the closest table stopped to hear his answer. 

Kay had told him during their breakfast the day before that when Sean had come out the town had made a small fortune in licensing itself for ad revenue. 

It was beginning to appear to him that the citizens of Johnston were primed for another round of momentary fame.

He lowered his mug, about to equivocate, then realized he had no reason whatsoever to back away from plans for his own wedding.

“Actually,” he told her amiably. “It’s not why I’m here. But a party _would_ be nice, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh,” she said, groaning. “That would be _awesome._ ” 

And then she, whom he hadn’t known a minute ago, eyed him conspiratorially. 

“Is that official?”

He shrugged haplessly. “It’s just you and me, shootin’ the breeze.”

She smirked, quite happy with herself. “Good enough,” she said, standing up. She picked up her purse and winked at him. “Tell Sean I said hi.”

“Will do,” he said.

He finished his meal, said goodbye to Louise, who instantly hurried from around the counter. 

He waited while she came, smelling of sugar cookies, to fuss with his hat, gloves, and jacket. After tightly zipping up his jacket, she kissed him hard on the cheek, and with a rub of his shoulder opened the door and sent him on his way.

He returned to his Audi with a huge, uncontrollable smile on his face.

Sean was going to have to marry him or the town of Johnston was going to yell at him forever and ever.

Which made him wonder what the heck the man was up to, doing a great job of avoiding him.

~*~

At the takeout counter of his favorite sandwich shop, his phone was trilling off the hook with text messages.

He couldn’t understand it. It had been that way all morning and the texts were all coming from local businesses wanting to offer him and Holden free what-the-hell-evers.

Pulling it out of his pocket now, he stared at the new one that had just come in, this time from an Italian restaurant that had just opened up a few months ago: “Hi, Sean! This is the manager at Crupio's. Bring your fiancé over for some fine dining and some even finer wine, on us!”

At his wit’s end—as far as he knew, Holden had been in town for just one day, having meals with his sisters or tied up with work in his hotel room—he contemplated sending the texts to Davey.

He knew he shouldn’t do it. He had told himself he was going to leave off dealing with all things Holden until he was forced to see him tonight. 

But unable to help himself, he went ahead and forwarded the texts with a “wtf” tag.

Davey instantly responded back that between their display at Baker’s yesterday morning and Holden having had breakfast there again this morning, the coffeeshop had been doing booming business for two days. And now some of other local restaurants wanted in on the action.

He stared at the words. Well, he had fucking wanted to know. 

But his gaze was stuck on “Holden having breakfast there again…”

Picking up his takeout order, he exited the shop for the truck. Discreetly glancing around as he left, he noticed that people sitting around and picking food in the shop _were_ smiling a little more pointedly at him.

At the truck he opened the driver side door, shoving the bags all the way over to the passenger side before straightening and shutting the door. He leaned against the hood of the truck, and against his own intelligence, brought up his phone and called Davey. Davey answered before it rang.

“Who the hell was he having breakfast with?”

There was silence on the line for so long that he thought he had lost the connection. 

Then he realized that Davey was simply laughing too hard and trying not to let him hear, his quiet gasps nevertheless reaching his ear.

“You having fun, Jones?”

“Fun,” Davey said, letting out a sigh, “is…not the word. Jay, you are too precious for words. You know there’s a Twitter account for both of you, right?”

He blinked, staring at the dirty snow around the truck’s tires. “What?”

“Yup. It tracks yours and his whereabouts. So anyone who encounters either of you anywhere in town tweets it, until you’re both reunited at each new location. Here, I’ll read one for you.”

He hung up.

Ignoring the text that trilled in seconds later, he climbed into the truck and turned on the ignition.

_Five more hours before you have to pick him up._

He turned the wheel, while his heart did its usual thing, going into overdrive at the thought of seeing Holden. 

But he was planning on spending his lunch hour, per his schedule, on the bleachers with the kids from Johnston high school’s Gay Alliance club, and he was looking forward to having other things occupy his mind other than thoughts of Holden.

Five hours was a long way off. He’d deal with it when it was time.

~*~

“You about to go pick Holden up for dinner, son?”

He rubbed the corner of his eye. “Yeah.”

So much for five hours being a long way off. He had barely brought Deena back from school, showered, and tried to give himself a pep talk before it was time to go get Holden. 

Despite Allison having being the one to set the dinner, the default presumption was that he’d be the one to go get Holden. And they thought he was acting irrationally.

“Okay,” his dad, checking out his rose bushes, stridently said to him. “Just remember what your mom said.”

“What’d she say?” he asked, testily.

“You be nice to him, son.”

“Yeah?” he said, standing in the middle of the driveway. “Whatever happened to a man’s got the right to be upset?”

“Be upset all you want,” his dad growled back. “Just do as she says.”

_Christ._

“Yeah, well.” He beeped open the truck. “We all know whose side you always come down on on every argument.”

“You want your own tailgunner, go get yourself married.”

He yanked open the door and climbed in.

“Thanks, dad.”

“See’in you in a bit.”

~*~

Upon returning to the hotel that afternoon he discovered that it hadn’t all been bad for Sean.

Sitting at the spacious writing desk, trying to get through some work emails, he had instead been thinking—not too proudly of himself—of the potential moral ramifications of slightly nonconsensual sex.

Elliot said it was all acceptable in an open, loving relationship.

And he was pretty sure he could make it good for Sean. It sure as hell had been good for him, being on the receiving end of it last summer.

Such were the complexities of his thoughts while Sean was out there somewhere having an actual personal crisis.

But his entire capacity for the situation was in forming visuals, for later, of how much he would let Sean experience his personal crisis, along with his new alpha male beard, all over him. As many times, and in whatever positions he wanted.

So, making very little dent in work that had been piling up since Sean’s return from the season, he had stared a little fuzzily when a text had come in from Elliot. 

It said simply: _”Google Sean Jackson gay club des Moines.”_

He had stared blankly for a moment, then, curious, he had pulled his laptop to him and had googled the search terms.

He clicked on the results in google images, the suggestion which came up first.

His screen was instantly populated with a host of brightly colored images.

He was staring at dozens of photos of Sean and what seemed like hundreds of twentysomethings, all of them arrayed in rows of wild partying. The kids, both males and females, were hanging off Sean like wildly colored party streamers, all screaming into the cameras.

Mesmerized, he read the captions under the links.

According to one blog, Sean had appeared at a gay nightclub in Des Moines called Bootleggers— _Ah_ —accompanied by a friend “who was not identified as being his fiancé, Holden Wilson,” and had sparked a Twitter frenzy among the clubbers. Within an hour, the newsflash had turned a staid Tuesday night at the club into what could only be compared to Mardi Gras.

He stared at little closer at the pictures.

In all the years he had known him, Sean had never wanted to go near a nightclub, much less to one as crazy looking as that.

But in every one of the photos Sean was grinning, his arms thrown around anyone close enough and lucky enough to find themselves under their long span. Sean looked totally thrilled, laughing in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time, and in nearly every one was with a dark haired guy he knew to be his friend Davey.

He felt a tension he hadn’t quite accepted he was carrying ease away.

He was feeling better than he had in two weeks, as despite, the surly attitude, Sean hadn’t been entirely miserable since leaving L.A. 

And as for his friend…

He peered closer at the screen version of Davey, who in a dark room could almost be mistaken for Sean. He’d have no problem recognizing him when he saw him in real life.

He sat back and texted Elliot: _Seen them._

There had been a brief period of texting silence. Then: _Good or bad?_

_Great._

_Well, fabulous. In that case tell him LA says g’on girl._

He smiled, locking and setting aside the phone.

Well, now he felt great.

Getting comfortable, he settled in for blissful hours of productive work before Sean came and picked him up.

~*~


	4. Chapter 4

Standing outside in the twilit hotel parking lot, ungloved hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, he waited for Holden.

No, he wasn’t nervous.

Just annoyed.

It was just too soon. Allison shouldn’t have done this.

But tonight was the demarcating point anyway. He would take Holden to meet his parents, get that out of the way, and leave Holden to do whatever he wanted with the rest of his stay.

 _Just don’t be a dick about it,_ he suddenly heard Davey say in his head.

Sure, fine. Whatever. His attitude might make him look like a stubborn ass in everyone’s eyes, but compared with the feelings that had driven him from L.A., he could live with their judgement any day.

Holden at last walked out of the hotel, waving to someone in the lobby as he cleared the sliding doors, and he realized that he was going to have to live with much more than that.

Dressed in a slimfit neon blue ski jacket the astronauts could see from the Space Station, Holden nevertheless looked like he had just walked out of a magazine. 

Walking across the parking lot like he owned the place, he had ditched the wool hat he had been wearing the previous morning at Baker’s and was dressed to impress for their dinner. 

He was bareheaded in the freezing weather, and instead of drying out in the cold, his hair looked like it had been coated with silk and was waiting for just the right touch to do something…exciting.

His body went as tight as though he had just been felt up.

It hadn’t been his imagination. Holden looked more _beautiful_ than he remembered.

_What the fuck?_

Coming until he was less than arm’s length from him, Holden stood before him with a cloud-nine smile on this face.

Two days out of L.A.’s sun had turned his pale skin even whiter, making his blue eyes stand out like signals against his skin, shining nothing but pure happiness out at him.

And Holden was still wearing his engagement ring.

“Who is this _mountain man,_ ” Holden breathed, giving him a slow once over. “And what have you done with my Sean?”

He couldn’t get a word out, shifting as though a different position would instantly solve the problem.

Having a hard time even raising his eyes, he stood struggling with the secret that he had always believed, that Holden had been made from scratch, fresh ingredients picked with love, to fulfill everything he found sexually irresistible about a man. 

And this moment absolutely went to prove it.

 _Fuck,_ he groaned silently. _Fuuuck._

“A hug would be nice.”

He instinctually stepped backward.

“Don’t,” Holden said quickly, softly, and when he looked up his eyes were at their feet, his brow tight with a minute frown. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, upset at himself. “It’s just— it’s just that I’d told you—”

“Sean, deal.”

His words died in his throat.

Holden took a step back, taking a moment to separate and then pull on his gloves. 

Then he looked up, and with a smile firmly in place, he asked. “Ready?”

He walked them back to his dad’s truck, parked across the street.

Navigating the snow and ice like it had a specific agenda against him, Holden moved slowly next to him. He placed his hand at the small of Holden's back, ready for anything.

But they reached the truck with no mishaps, and when he reached around Holden to pull open the passenger side door he noticed that Holden was looking at him as if what he had just done was the cutest thing he had ever seen.

“Would you have caught me if I fell? I think my clumsiness gene just failed me.”

His lashes batting one final time, Holden got into the truck.

He carefully shut the door and made his way around. Jesus, had he almost fucked that up. Where had he misunderstood himself about not acting like a dick?

Pulling out his phone, he sent Allison a quick text. Then, praying she and Kay arrived before they did, he climbed in and shut the door.

~*~

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

Holden, casually observing the passing scenery, said, “Nope.”

He sank back in the seat, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel. Of course Holden wouldn’t be nervous.

Holden looked across the truck’s too-warm interior at him. “Should I be?”

“It’s just—what if they don’t like you?”

Holden's expression remained the same. “Why wouldn’t they like me?”

He shifted, about to say something on automatic, then stopped. The fact was that whatever he had been about to say would be nothing more than a platitude. Holden was the mold from which social etiquette was cast, and other than outright rudeness he couldn’t see any reason for his parents to have a problem with him.

As much as his parents loved him he was quite sure that they didn’t think him so special that any respectful boy wouldn’t do.

But he made himself think for a moment longer. “It’s not really a matter of them not liking you. Aren’t you worried they might not relate to you?”

“That's fine,” Holden said, turning back to watch the snowy landscape. “It’s not as if it’s them I’m marrying, right?”

He shut up after that.

 _Allison,_ he called silently. _Help._

~*~

Kay and Allison arrived simultaneously with them. 

They hugged Holden, kissing his parents who were standing with them at the front doors, and shut the door behind them.

All in the foyer, he introduced Holden to his parents in not much more than mutter, “Mom, dad, this is Holden. Holden, these are my folks, Anne and Wil,” and walked around Holden to drop the truck keys in their bowl on a side table.

He’d dropped them and was already withdrawing his hand when a tough, weathered one clamped down on his.

He looked up to see his dad, his eyes sharpened and narrowed, staring piercingly at him.

“What?” he whispered.

“Get his coat,” his dad whispered back.

He turned in surprise to see his mother taking Holden’s jacket, and asking whether he would like something warm to drink. Holden graciously replied that he would.

He almost palmed his face.

Blushing, he watched as Holden followed his mother toward the dining room.

“Is that what you gay men do?” his dad snapped, being intentionally obtuse. “Can’t be gentlemanly with each other?” before following his wife into the house.

He groaned to himself. Forgetting that he wasn’t alone in the foyer, he threw up a hand, gladly forfeiting the evening already.

A hand clamped on his shoulder, and he started and glanced over to see Allison standing behind him, her lips tightened in empathy.

Kay, giving him an identical look, moved from around her and went on into the house.

“Get a move on, kiddo,” Allison said, patting his lower back like he was stalling on the sidelines. “Game’s started.”

He sighed and moved his feet.

~*~

Dinner turned out not to be horrible.

And he realized very quickly why. He was immensely relieved to see that his mother wasn’t fawning all over Holden. 

He wasn’t proud of himself for feeling that way, but he hadn’t realized until that moment that he had been harboring a fear about it. He hadn’t needed her to reject Holden or anything so horrible, but it would have hurt badly if he had had to sit there and watch her act as if all her prayers had been answered.

It made him feel less alone.

She was, in fact, being her usual reserved self.

Presumably out of respect for their situation, she was merely being as polite and as cordial to Holden as to any other guest in her home, at that moment asking him about travel destinations, travel being her favorite hobby and Holden apparently having been everywhere. He was once again reminded as to why moms could be so awesome.

And his dad, per _his_ usual, was not giving a shit about undercurrents. He showed interest in few things, but when he did he was perfectly open to talking about them with whomever. 

Now, following a new interest of his in ethnography of all things, he was connecting with Holden over the fact that Holden’s family came from Scotland and their ancestry came from Northern England near the border with Scotland.

Not that that actually meant anything, as far as he could tell, but the two of them spent some time figuring out where exactly the names Jackson and Wilson might have come from.

And of course there were his sisters, who, based on having had just one meal with him and finding him “just so adorable,” according to Kay, were all but done filling out adoption papers.

The two of them, sitting side by side on the other side of his dad, spent the dinner giving each other meaningful looks every time Holden said something that might in any way have to do with him. 

And since he was sitting diagonally from them, opposite Holden who was seated between his parents, he was having to do a lot of pretending.

It was as if they were all having a wonderful family vacation, and he was being relegated to time-out for being bad.

“How long are you planning on staying in town, Holden?” his mom finally asked.

“It depends,” Holden said, then shifted his eyes once more to him.

He kept his gaze on his plate, concentrating on stabbing honeyed carrots, ignoring Kay and Allison kneeing each other under the table.

“Will you be attending the barbecue on Sunday, then?” his mother continued, all in deliberately casual tones. He knew she was trying not to seem too interested, which was her way of handling delicate situations. “We’d love to have you.”

“I’d love to come,” Holden said softly, turning to her with a very pretty smile.

God almighty, had he just thought that.

“Thank you,” Holden said.

His mother nodded.

“Sean, are we all set for Sunday, then?” his dad suddenly asked. “You and David finished with that fire pit?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he told him. “It wasn’t, you know, a couple hours worth of work.”

“Uh huh. And are you two going to continue to be responsible to any damage you cause to the neighborhood.”

He smirked, caught off guard. “Yeah. It’s the only reason we had to get jobs.”

“Sean and Davey used to terrorize the neighborhood during Super Bowl Sunday,” Kay told to Holden. “Forget Fourth of July, these two were like bandits.”

“We were kids,” he protested.

Kay twisted her lips. “This was what, three years ago?”

“Make that two,” Allison suggested.

He laughed outright. “No, it wasn’t.”

Holden shot him a look, his eyes bright with reaction over his laughter. 

He sat forward and picked up his fork. “Well, it’s all set, anyway,” he mumbled to his dad.

“Good for you.”

The conversation moved on.

Without having to look up, he knew that Holden's eye were still fixed on him, and that his attention had not moved on with the rest of the conversation.

~*~

When it was over they went outside to say their goodbyes. And standing there, watching Holden say goodbye to his parents, he started thinking about something out of the blue.

He was thinking about his first meeting with Alastair, when he had remembered how grateful he had been to his mother at that time for the efforts she had put into raising him. Whatever else had been going on in his activity-filled existence growing up, she had made sure that he was able to properly dress himself, feed himself, and present himself in a way that would allow him to fit in just about anywhere. And when he had met Alastair, he had felt the moment of living up to that unexpected pressure.

He remembered how _happy_ he had been for the opportunity to meet Alastair, how grateful he had been that they had formed any kind of a relationship at all. It had felt to him like managing to win over yet another aspect of Holden.

So despite his selfish feelings during dinner, as he watched Holden kiss his mom’s cheek now, shake hands with his dad, he wondered what Holden’s take on this moment was. What it meant to him. 

And he was saddened that he couldn’t simply ask.

Maybe someday.

Farewells at a close, he led the way back to the truck. Kay and Allison were still in the house but they weren’t headed the same way so he’d just take Holden back to the hotel and breathe a sigh of relief.

At the truck Holden stopped, presumably to wait to say goodnight to his sisters.

Instead when he looked up from sorting out the key to the truck, Holden was staring expectantly at him, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, dark blue eyes inquisitive and unmoving. The low garage lights and lawn lights hit his skin with a golden glow, but even under the tint he could see color spreading across his face.

Holden’s eyes dropped, lingering at his hand holding the car key, before slowly coming back up.

“So,” Holden said softly, his eyes fastened on him. “You wanna ditch all this and go fuck?”

The words floated into perfect silence. He tried to understand what he had just heard.

“Kidding,” Holden said softly. Then he scrunched up his face. “Kind of. Hey, did I tell you that I love your new beard?” he smoothly went on, not giving him time to respond. “Because I really do. When you kissed me yesterday at Baker’s, I pretty much mentally violated all your civil rights. I could tell you about it later if you like.”

He could only continue staring at Holden, wondering whether he was being hypnotized.

Kay and Allison noisily came out of the house, saying goodbye to his parents.

Holden slid his eyes over to where they were approaching, then brought them back to him. “So,” he said, returning his voice to normal levels. “What are you up to tonight?” He tilted his head towards the women. “The three of us are going out for drinks. Would you like to join us?”

“No,” he said slowly, and in a way that he hoped conveyed to Holden that he was perfectly capable of telling when he was being fucked with. “I’m meeting up with some friends.”

“Oh, your friend Davey?” Holden asked pleasantly. “I still haven’t met him. Are you guys going to be out late? I should join you later.”

“I don’t think so,” he said quickly. “It’s going to be just us guys.”

There was a beat in which his thoughts tripped to a halt, and he stood there refusing to believe that he had once again just opened his mouth and inserted his foot in it.

Holden was staring at him with a blank expression.

“Um…” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Holden said. “I don’t know how to take that. Is it me being from L.A.?”

“Guys,” Allison said suddenly, reaching them.

He turned to her, hoping she hadn’t heard any of their exchange. 

She looked expectantly at him. “Are you going to shower and meet us?”

It took him a moment to reorient his thoughts. Her eyebrows meanwhile were high on her forehead, her eyes pointedly on him.

She hadn’t mentioned their morning exchange at her house, and in fact was acting as though it had never happened. Which meant she had moved past that and had devised another strategy. 

Which meant he, rapidly began to realize, that he should just go home. Or at least get out of her way; exactly what he had in mind.

“Uh, Davey and I are meeting up. So no, not tonight I’m afraid.”

“I know,” she said as if talking to someone being intentionally slow on the uptake. “At the bar.”

“What bar?” he asked in timid tones. Stupidly.

She rolled her eyes, knowing, as he knew, that he was screwed and he might as well accept it. 

“Lula’s,” she said, naming the bar where he and Davey were meeting up. “That’s where we’re all meeting.”

He stared at her, and then over her head at Kay who had come up behind her. 

Kay crossed her arms and gave him a giant _gotcha_ smirk.

He looked in surprise at Holden, who didn’t seem to be have been in on it, but who now, picking up on the new twist, had a fucking beatific smile on his face. 

“We’ll see you later Sean,” Allison said briskly, starting towards her car.

“We’ll drop Holden off,” Kay told him judiciously, stepping back as Allison passed, and extending her arm to Holden. Linking her arm through Holden’s, she gave him a benevolent, maternal smile. “Why don’t you…go get pretty.”

Holden’s eyes flashed, his face flushing with additional color. He looked so excited he was apparently done with this conversation. Pulling his hands from his pockets, he stepped closer and he stood sock still while Holden pressed a warm kiss into his cheek.

“See you later,” he whispered knowingly, flicking him a burning hot look. Then he stepped back and followed Kay to their car, his hand at her elbow and his attention already toward her.

Speechless, he watched them go.

Then he quickly pulled out his phone. Texting Davey, he told him to meet him outside the bar before going in.

~*~

At the hotel he quickly changed clothes and ran a hand through his hair. In anticipation of his dinner with Sean’s parents he had put in the conditioner that held it in place during the daytime. And now he briefly regretted it. Nothing to be done there.

All but done and expecting the call from Kay any minute, he instead received a text telling him that “his ride” was here. 

And it was from a number he didn’t know.

 _Can I come up?_ a second text asked. 

He texted back, “Sure.”

A tense minute later there was a knock at the door.

Slowly walking over, because he thought he knew what he was about to see, he opened the door to find Sean’s best friend standing there.

Greeting him, Davey walked into the room. He quickly closed the door and turned to watch him. 

Davey walked toward the middle of the living room, his gaze perfunctorily sweeping the suite’s orange and dark wood décor. 

Then he turned and extended his hand. 

“Davey Jones.”

“Holden Wilson,” he said, taking his hand and briefly shaking it.

Davey let go, looking around for a place to sit. While he stared, astounded. 

It really was like looking at a kind of dark-haired replica of Sean.

Though leaner than Sean, their bearing was similar, and if they had been inseparable since the age of six he could see why, and how they might have been attracted to each other’s company in the first place.

And he didn’t seem to have a problem coming there in Sean’s place.

Davey had found a place to sit on one of the suite’s long sofas, lowering himself and getting comfortable. 

He continued staring at him, and resting his arm along it back, Davey stared back.

“Is-is Sean downstairs?”

“Nope. Just my wife Michelle. She’s waiting in the car,” Davey added, when, he supposed, he only kept on staring.

It took him another moment but he nodded, and told him he just had to finish up a couple more things. 

Davey lifted his hand in a “go for it” gesture, and he went back into the bedroom to grab his wallet. 

He came back into the living, checking that he had his room key and his credit cards, his driver license…and realized that Davey was surreptitiously but clearly watching him.

He looked back, guessing that it might actually to be okay for them to be curious about one another.

Though for him it was a bit bewildering because he didn’t think he had ever been in a situation like this, which felt like the more important meeting, even over meeting Sean’s parents.

When the corner of Davey’s mouth slowly pulled in a slight smile, he thought Davey might be thinking the same thing.

But instead of saying anything on the topic, Davey said, “All set?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, and Davey stood up.

He led the way downstairs to the lobby.

Outside, the air was frigid as he followed Davey toward a white Lexus SUV. 

He thought to himself that somebody had good taste, though he would never have figured it for the choice of car that Davey—who looked like a boy if he ever saw one—would go for.

In the front passenger seat a petite, raven-haired woman was texting furiously. She looked up as he approached and he almost did a double take at how striking she was. 

Her dark eyes flashed when she saw him.

“Oh my God, you’re gorgeous,” she said in a flat, rapid speech, apparently speaking to him. “ _And_ you’re being so nice about all of this?” She turned to her husband, getting in on the driver side. “They’re totally getting married.”

“Of course they are,” Davey said, reaching for the seat belt. He buckled himself in, then looked across the interior of the car at where he was still standing by the back door, slightly overwhelmed.

“Come on,” Davey said encouragingly, smiling at him. “We won’t bite.”

He got in.

“Hi, honey,” Michelle said, turning around in her seat. “I’m Michelle. You’ve met Davey,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And now let’s go get you Sean. Am I right, babe?” she said, sitting forward.

“I was told to just get him to the parking lot at Lula’s,” Davey said, shifting the car into gear. “Whatever happens after that is above my pay grade.”

~*~


	5. Chapter 5

Where the fuck was Davey? 

Where the fuck was Michelle for that matter? Allison and Kay and half a dozen of all their friends were already inside the bar. He hadn’t expected every damned couple in their circle of friends to be invited, but apparently that was what his sisters had organized.

He had been keeping an eye out for the Wrangler and so must have missed it when Michelle’s Lexus had entered into the parking lot. Because suddenly he was turning around and Davey was walking toward him.

Without waiting for Davey even finish getting to him, he said, “All right. Here are the rules.”

Davey stood before him with an amused smile, which ignored, figuring Davey was trying to throw him off, until he looked over Davey’s shoulder and saw Holden coming up behind him.

He went still, trying to understand this. Had Davey—

“He stared at me the whole time,” Davey said, turning to look over his shoulder at where Holden was coming, accompanied by Michelle. “But you’ll be pleased to know I kept all your secrets.” 

Davey turned back to him, smiling at what he was sure was his pale, bloodless face.

Holden waved briefly to him while Michelle threw in a, “Hi, Sean,” in the middle of her rapid manner of speaking, then stood back and pulled open the bar doors. 

Holden entered, while Michelle gave him a narrow-eyed, disbelieving shake of her head. She went inside as well.

He opened his mouth, about to protest everything, but Davey clapped a hand on his shoulder.

Drawing him in, Davey said, “Son, the women have him now. Take a deep breath and come with me.”

~*~

“Sit with us,” Michelle whispered as they sat down. “Right here.”

They were in a dark, nicely lit thirtysomething bar, surrounded by decorative candles he pleased to see, as Sean liked those—and a handful of couples and one or two singles. They all seemed to be people Sean had grown up with.

The seating comprised of large ottomans and small tables, arranged around a leather sectional, all ensconced in one corner of the bar. He thought it all very nice and upscale, though had been hoping to sit with Sean.

Michelle, seeing the look he cast in Sean and Davey direction as they came in and took a seat diagonally from them, placed a hand on his thigh. “Trust us.”

He sat down and within seconds understood why. 

Sean sat down, and instantly he could tell that what the view available to Sean’s vision were mainly his legs and crotch. Sean immediately sat forward on the ottoman, as if pulled, his head lowered but his eyes locked on getting a better view. He then sat there rubbing the back of his neck.

He turned to Michelle, who threw him a knowing look.

Lowering his head, he whispered, “I know what you’re doing. And…I know I just met you but I think you should know that I’m not very good at this. I want to be over there sitting in his lap.”

Michelle turned to him, unfazed. She was a petite spark plug, a no-bullshitter if he ever met one, with straight black hair going down her back like a Native American’s. She spoke in rapid-fire sentences and expected everyone else to keep up with what was obviously a razor-sharp intelligence.

“I know,” she said soothingly. “But you’re thinking with your dick right now. And that’s not an insult, that’s biology. Which is why you have the female part of the species. Tap into some of that estrogen. Give him time to see you, appreciate you, and to think real hard about what he finds important about you.”

While she spoke, his eyes had drifted back to Sean’s torso, encased at the moment in a zippered sweatshirt. 

Pretty soon it might get warm enough inside the bar that Sean might have to take it off. He was pretty sure that underneath Sean was only in a T-shirt. His dark jeans were held up by the same heavy leather belt that had thwarted his gaze yesterday at Baker’s, but this time it looked like together, the T-shirt and the belt were going to give him something spectacular to look forward to before the night was over. 

And he didn’t even want to start thinking about the beard.

He was thinking very hard about what it was he found important about that, and the female part of him was assuring him that she wasn’t going to make it.

“Try and seduce him,” Michelle whispered.

He objectively evaluated his seduction skills. Once he had tried giving Sean a lap dance, or had intended to. He had straddled Sean, turned on the music and then put down the remote to Sean’s sound system, but once he had faced forward again and had grabbed Sean’s hips, they had just started fucking. It had just seemed the most logical thing to do with Sean as stiff as an arm under him.

Other than that, his seduction skills had always comprised of “Come over here.”

But he glanced at Michelle and gave her a firm nod, at least willing to try something new. She returned an encouraging nod.

By now everybody had settled, the server coming round for their drink orders, and introductions were being made.

~*~

“So what’s Sean like in L.A.?” one of the male friends asked.

“Boring, mostly.”

Sean's head flew up. He looked at him with startled eyes.

He shrugged a smile.

Sean shook his head, lowering it, and said nothing.

Allison, at one end, had failed to stop herself from laughing. Kay, on his right, had cracked up, as had everyone else, and Davey, lounging next to Sean, had started to smile.

“How’d you guys meet?” someone asked.

“At a boring event,” Sean cut in, before he could answer. “Which was the only reason I was invited.”

“It was a fundraiser for children’s leukemia,” he laughed, giving Sean a patient look. “That’s not _boring._ ”

“They could have sent me a letter. I would have mailed them a check and had a much better evening.”

“You were having a great evening checking me out,” he reminded him.

Kay and Michelle were loving it. As were the rest of Sean’s friends. 

“I couldn’t even finish my drink,” he said exasperatedly.

Sean was staring at him, maybe just now understanding when he had said he’d give him time, not space. 

“What’d you end up doing?” someone asked, playing along.

“Ugh, it was crazy. He followed me to my car, followed me home, wouldn’t stop calling me…”

“Are you serious?” the woman asked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head, smiling. “He ignored the shit out of me. I had to chase him pretty hard, and through resources.”

They fell over laughing.

“Sounds like Sean,” someone said.

“Unlike Bootleggers.”

There was a collective “Ahh.”

It was Kay who had said it. She tilted her head at Sean and Davey. “One of you needs to start talking,” she told them.

Sean, legs crossed at his ankles and his hands clasped between them, didn’t so much as twitch. He hadn’t appeared interested in his revisionist narration, and now he seemed even less so.

“It’s an awesome story,” Davey affirmed, turning to Sean with what was truly an evil grin. “But I’m not allowed to tell it.”

“That’s because you’d be dead.”

“Okay, fine,” one of the women who had gone to school with them said. “Let’s talk about Sean and Davey’s bromance. Because I was there from the start.”

Sean and Davey snorted, one on top of the other, and Michelle simply, resignedly shook her head.

“Please,” Davey said with disdain. “Sean and I had our thing going before they started giving it fancy names. There wasn’t even a name for it back in the day.”

“We were just war buddies,” Sean confirmed.

“Yeah,” Allison said. “And the war you were waging was against all of ordered humanity.”

He laughed, listening very closely.

“These two got so inseparable,” she told them, “that at one point both sets of parents had to sit down and figure out what was going to happen if one set suddenly died in a car crash. I’m not kidding. Because the surviving parents were going to have to adopt one of them, I mean it got that bad.” She looked at them, flush with amusement. “How old were you two when they had that meeting?”

Sean was chuckling, apparently remembering the time with fondness. “We were ten. We were going to be gunrunners for the guerrillas in South America.”

“Heady times,” Davey said, nodding.

“Yeah, and I was going to be running the chocolate milk.”

Everyone was laughing, and he took the opportunity to watch Sean and Davey, fascinated by the degree to which they mimicked each other’s actions. They talked in tandem most of the night, responding one on top of the other, essentially using the same words. Even without Allison’s anecdote, it was obvious that they were friends who had long passed the signpost for brotherhood. And everyone around them seemed to take it for granted. It made him wonder too, naturally, about other things.

All in all he had never seen Sean so different. Sean was completely at ease, even being aware of the agenda behind the gathering. He seemed unselfconscious of his own body, not seeming to be Sean Jackson, as he had met him, but just Sean, Allison’s little brother and Davey’s best friend.

And Sean would look at him sometimes, when he took his eyes off his crotch long enough, but his eyes would become guarded and he would look away.

The conversation had moved on to a Volkswagen Bug Davey had had when they were teenagers, an indisputable piece of scrap from the consensus, and one which had lacked a reverse gear. Apparently it had employed a good number of younger kids in the town, who had acted as lookouts for spots that didn’t require pulling out of, while half the population of elderly people were now on pacemakers now because of it.

Sean and Davey were explaining why that proved that the reverse gear was overrated. 

He was getting a hardon. God dammit, he was. 

Clearly he had never thought of what Sean would be like as a rowdy teenager. He himself would have probably done a lot of screaming and staying out of his way. Now though? Different story.

Then suddenly Sean was sitting up and it was time for the sweatshirt to come off.

He heard a ripping sound of the zipper being pulled apart and realized also that it was the sound of his sanity ripping. Sean, looking around for a place to put the piece of clothing, twisted his torso, displaying flexing back muscles and huge arms that had gone deliciously pale with the winter.

He must have tensed because Michelle quietly said, “Breathe, honey. Think seduction.”

He did just that, spreading his legs a little for his own comfort, and reminded himself that his presence in Johnston was a marathon, not a sprint. Sean needed his emotional support. Not necessarily his tongue in his mouth.

But when he looked over again Sean was back to staring at his crotch.

Suddenly hit in the head with what seduction entailed, he spread his legs a little more, and watched as Sean’s eyes stayed so completely still, he appeared to have solidified. When Sean finally, briefly, glanced up at him, he softly wet his lips and mouthed, “I love you.”

Sean’s eyes stayed on him.

“So, Holden,” one of the girlfriends, snuggled up against her boyfriend and perhaps seeing too much, said coyly. “Tell us what you love most about Sean.”

“He has the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen.”

There was utter silence.

And then the group howled. 

Michelle, laughing softly in a cute high-pitched manner, put her arms around him and hugged him.

Davey, collapsed against Sean, was quietly falling apart while Sean turned a dark red, his eyes on the floor in apparent acceptance of his fate.

“Sean,” Allison said, snorting laughter. She looked, he was glad to see, quite pleased. “Your turn. What do you love most about Holden?”

“His ability to censor himself. Unmatched.”

He dipped his head, acquiescing that he’d get no arguments there.

“And now,” Michelle calculatedly said, as the laughter died down. “Let’s do it for real. Holden,” she said gracefully, turning to him. “You first.”

He smiled, his eyes on Sean, whose eyes had returned to somewhere around his crotch, and determined to verbalize the things he would never think to in L.A.

“I love his personality,” he said, casting about for the analogy that would speak best to Sean. “Which is as gorgeous and as radiant as…a full moon on the ocean.”

The women loved it. Davey looked seriously horrified. The flush on Sean’s face rose all the way to the roots of his hair.

Michelle sympathetically patted his knee. “Your turn Sean,” she said.

Sean went completely silent.

Everyone simply watched him, because it looked like he was stumped.

But Sean was the opposite of that, and he and clearly Davey, and maybe Kay and Allison, were the only ones who could see that.

“This,” Davey solemnly said, placing a hand on Sean’s shoulder. “Is a grown man in love.” 

While some of the women aww’d, Davey turned to Sean. “Sean, it’s okay. We know you’re gay and fucking him. You can tell us how he makes you feel funny down there.”

His mouth fell open.

Everyone else had sprayed their drinks.

Even the other patrons in the bar had stopped to look at them, as at this point anyone in their group not clutching their stomachs, including him, was Sean’s older sister. 

Allison was smiling blissfully and with absolute gratification. Like someone who had waited and had received the best payback ever.

Sean, immobilized, hands locked between his stretched legs, was apparently too thunderstruck to say a word.

Kay sat up, letting out a hugh sigh. “Aw,” she said, seeing Sean’s state. “I think someone needs a little tummy time.”

Michelle gently elbow him. He sat forward, then turned to her, wanting to make sure he wasn’t screwing up his female’s agenda. “Is that my cue?” he asked softly.

She laughed, nodding, and he went over and came as close as he ever would to publicly sitting in Sean’s lap.

Instead he leaned over and softly pressed a warm kiss to Sean’s mouth. 

He felt the soft bristles of his new beard for the second time, the erotic shock of it just as good. 

“Aw,” one of the woman said. “So heartwarming,” 

“It sure is,” Kay said, while he pulled back.

Sean was stiff under him, his eyes hooded and unreadable, and the solid oak chest beneath his fingers perfectly still. 

But when Sean's eyes flicked up momentarily, he saw, without a doubt, that something had gotten through.

~*~

He took Davey for a break at the bar.

Davey sat down and pulled out his phone while he ordered beers.

 _Heartwarming??_ Were they kidding him with all this stuff?

Between Holden blatantly propositioning him earlier after dinner which for some sad reason qualified as one of the hottest things that had ever happened to him, and Davey working for the enemy, he should have just gone home.

And he would have, except that Allison would have done far worse than shoot daggers at him with her eyes. 

Instead he had ended up sitting at the worst possible angle he could have chosen to be looking at Holden, and had had to spend the last couple of hours struggling to keep his eyes from simply parking themselves in Holden’s crotch. Which were encased in a pair of pants he couldn’t understand. 

At first he had thought the material was black denim, then maybe corduroy. But after he had gotten a long enough look, they had turned out to be velvet. 

He had never seen a pair of black velvet jeans, not on any man, woman, or mannequin.

Who the fuck wore velvet jeans?

The conversation had gone all over the damn place, but those pants were all he cared to think about.

They hugged everywhere and showed off Holden’s long legs, ending, slightly silvery, in a softly cushioned package. They were form fitting without seeming tight, so that the only thing that seemed inappropriate about the whole thing was that you were staring so obviously.

They were the most amazing things he had ever seen.

He tried to communicate with his forebrain, telling it no, they weren’t, and that Holden had probably changed into them and…done something with his hair just to make things difficult for him. But his libido was weeping its thanks and wanting to accept all the difficulty Holden wished to throw at it.

And of course Holden was taking every advantage of his out of control scrutiny, at one point, when he had involuntarily looked up at him, dropping his lashes softly over and over, in that universal language of the come-on.

Sitting in Dr. Markham’s office that afternoon, thinking he had been making some kind of personal stand, he would have never thought that it would still come down to this. A need for sex.

Just one night. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t give.

Free and clear, he wanted to call a truce and get some release.

He braced his elbows on the bar and dropped his head. 

Holden was like a damn addiction he couldn’t stop licking away at. One free night? He was asking for trouble.

The bartender had brought their beers and when he looked over Davey was still dicking around on his phone.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he whispered, leaning over.

“Checking us in at that Twitter account I told you about. Here’s what I wrote—”

He moved his head even closer to Davey’s. “Did Michelle go up to the room with you?”

“Nope. Just me.”

He stared at Davey.

“What are you telling me, Davey? What happened in there?’

Davey put away his phone, turning and picking up his beer.

“Nothing much,” Davey said, taking a gulp, then taking his time to swallow it. “He got dressed and… I…watched.”

Davey snuck him a look.

He knew he was being baited, knew Davey was just waiting to see what the fuck would come out of him, and still couldn’t help himself.

“Davey, are you bi?”

Davey guffawed, beer frothing out of his mouth and splashing the shit out of him, and most of the bar in front of them. 

Someone on the other side of Davey thumped his back, eliciting a choked “Thanks” from Davey.

He wanted to strangle Davey. Davey sat back, staring at him, and was so amused he made a mental note to bump that ass-kicking he had promised him to his number one priority.

“Jay,” Davey said philosophically, beginning to peel at his beer label. “It’s been an honor watching you acting like a schoolgirl around a guy. No matter what I thought I’d been about to see, I didn’t think I was about to see that.”

“I’ve got real problems with him, you know.”

“Well, I can’t fucking help you. But I will tell you this,” Davey said, lowering voice. “That guy has touched some part of you even I don’t understand.”

He frowned, picking up his beer. “Isn’t it just me being in love with him?” he asked softly. 

Davey slowly shook his head. “I don’t think so. And the fact that you’re _terrified_ of him—”

“I’m not terrified of him.”

“Jay, that guy is like a sweet _bunny_ —”

“Will you give me a break,” he whispered, looking at Davey. “After the things he just said?”

But Davey seemed to be in his own world. “I’m not surprised at all that he just snapped his fingers and made you come out. Of the closet. In the fucking NFL.”

“He didn’t _make_ me.”

“It’s like he has some kind of _key_ to a secret lock inside you.”

Something pushed against his chest. He pushed back against it and cut Davey a look.

“That’s dumb as hell, and stop talking. I’m not having this conversation any more.”

“It’s dumb as hell?”

“Yeah,” he said, chafing against Davey’s casual tone. “It’s called pushing someone’s buttons. As in him doing to it me, and in all the wrong ways.” He rubbed his forehead, having trouble breathing. 

“Sure,” said Davey drolly.

He went on rubbing his head. Then he remembered something.

“I owe you an ass kicking, by the way. I told you not to go near my stuff and then I find out you’re in his hotel room. His fucking hotel room, Davey.”

“I’ll go near your stuff any day. Next time I’ll lay down on his bed while he takes a shower and I’ll fucking call you from there.”

“You’re dead meat, you punk. You got a priority one shit-kicking coming your way.”

Davey smirked. “Bonfire’s tomorrow. You might want to let that accrue.” 

Then Davey swiveled his seat and faced him, then lifted a finger towards the group behind him.

“He’s going to need a ride back to the hotel. Have you thought about whose responsibility that’s going to be?”

“I didn’t bring him here. I’m not taking him back.”

“Jay,” Davey said, as if he was being ridiculous. “Look around you. You’re not in L.A. anymore. Big momma’s gonna make you take him back to his hotel. End of story. So you better get your beauty pageant winning cock ready.”

He turned and looked at Davey. “This is bullshit, you know that?”

He turned away, thinking the conversation was over. But when he looked again, in anticipation of Davey’s response, Davey was looking disrespectfully at him.

“What are you so afraid of?” Davey asked softly. “It’s just sex.”

He stared at Davey. Davey drank his beer.

“I like his pants,” Davey said casually. “He said they’re Valentino. I think I’m gonna get a pair for Michelle. See how they feel.”

~*~

Sean dragged him back to his hotel room.

The night had ended, he had gone outside with everyone else and had done his best to stand passively while friends hugged and kissed one another and promised to see each other again soon. If he knew one thing about Sean, it was that when aroused, only him opening his mouth could fuck it up. So he didn’t make any sudden moves. 

He bent and hugged Michelle as she kissed his cheek then released him and started walking wordlessly toward her car. Allison threw Sean a dangerous look, then left with Kay just as effectively. Davey had long gone ahead and was pulling the car around for Michelle.

They all needn’t have bothered.

In exactly the amount of time it took to get there, Sean had him up against the door of his hotel room, had gotten on his knees, and was chewing his cock through his pants.

Plastered against the door, he spent precious moments scratching the wood behind him before remembering that he wasn’t making do with a fantasy, that he could put his hands on him and touch him. Grabbing Sean by the shoulder, he ran his fingers all over his face, over his skin, his eyes and lips and beard, committing it all to memory for later. 

And suddenly he was tightening his hand in his hair, pulling Sean up to him. Sean stopped, slowly rose to his feet, and put his arms around him.

He dropped his head to Sean’s shoulder, gripping him by the torso, grateful that Sean seemed to understand. He breathed heatedly, heavily, feeling as though he had just run a race.

Sean made a soft grunting sound under his breath, turning toward him, looking for a kiss. But he only wrapped his arms tighter around him and pulled him closer. 

Sean held still, finally getting the depth of his need, and propped his arm against the door behind his head. With his free hand, he held him by the back.

He couldn’t believe he was the one getting the way of them having sex. But he slid his arms all the way around Sean’s body, as finally having him like this, sex seemed tangential. His breaths were still not coming fully.

Turning his face to Sean, he whispered, “Let’s not do this ever again.”

Sean was silent, touching his hair, running a hand along his shoulder.

“Sean, okay?” he insisted.

“Holden—”

“It doesn’t matter,” he whispered, changing his mind, squeezing him tightly, his face against his. “It’s fine. Doesn’t matter.”

Sean continued his silence, his body tense with the things he knew Sean had been about to say. “What doesn’t matter?” Sean asked.

“Whatever you were about to say,” he muttered.

“You mean, that it’s not over? That I still need time?”

“I don’t care,” he snapped, burrowing with his head harder against Sean’s face. “I don’t care. Come home with me right now.”

Sean breathed deeply in resignation. “With nothing resolved? You want me to come home with same feelings inside me?”

“ _Yes._ ”

“Holden, I came up here to give you a blow job. I’ll leave if that’s not what you want.”

The words chilled him, sending cold water drizzling down his spine. He went still and pulled back, releasing his hold on him completely.

“Then by all means leave.”

He moved aside to let Sean get to the door handle. Separating from his heat had left him even colder.

But Sean just stood there, unmoving, his head down.

“Holden,” he said softly. “I need a night.”

He couldn’t respond for a moment.

“What for?” he finally asked through a tight throat.

Sean gave him no answer. Turning back to Sean, he gripped his sweatshirt before he could stop himself.

“Because you love me, you fool,” he whispered, pulling on the material. “And because you’re being insufferable. Who cares what happened—”

“Holden, don’t.”

He stopped and swallowed, tightening his jaw enough to stop his thoughts from spilling. He couldn’t believe this. Couldn’t believe any of it. But here was what he had said yes to in entering a commitment. Not for the times when it was easy, but rather for times like these when your partner made you want to shake some sense into him. He would survive it. He had to.

His grip on Sean’s sweatshirt tightened. Sean had turned back to him, his hand planted beside his head on the door, his hand taking up him and trailing over his fingertips. The light touch made him want to scream his frustrations, to plead for it to end. Sean took his arm, then his shoulder, and bending, pressed a tender kiss to it.

Trying not to and failing, he was dissolving into a puddle of melted anger and dissatisfaction, trying to hold on to his position. He buried his face in Sean’s hair, finally allowing himself to stroke his beard, to run his thumb over the soft bristles at the corner of his mouth. Sean turned his mouth toward him and lapped _submissively_ at his thumb. His knees buckled under him.

Caught in Sean’s arm, he shamelessly mewled and rubbed his face in his hair. He would give anything for this moment to be over. And for it to never end. Sean kissed up his neck, underneath his jaw, burying big, warm kisses as he went, licking and coaxing his frustrations out of him. Warm and almost playful, the way he always remembered Sean, they were kisses that belied their situation and made him want to kill someone.

“Why’re you doing this?” he groaned helplessly. 

Instead of replying, Sean began slowly undoing his buttons. He bent forward to push his tongue against his skin as his shirt fell open, touching it to his nipple, then licking and sucking on him.

He held Sean by the shoulders and gave up, saying stupid, insane things that didn’t help his position. Sean straightened and stepped closer, gripping his ass in both hands. He immediately leaned back into the door and let him, stroking his chest while Sean pulled his hips forward until their hard, trapped erections touched. Shirt hanging open, he gritted his teeth at the horribly unsatisfying sensation of clothing between them. Sean let go go him and reached for their zippers. 

His came down first, along with his button and his fly, before Sean released him long enough to unzip himself and discard that heavy leather belt. His fingers hooked into Sean’s jeans, pushing them down along with a pair of black briefs, over his ass. Sean spread his legs a little and the jeans dropped to his thighs. Then, fitting his hands into the back of his pants, Sean smoothed them off him. Sean stared down, letting out a soft grunt. He had worn on underwear.

Both freed, Sean licked his hand and stroked them both. Then he returned his grip to his ass, pulled him forward, and the began grinding mindlessly, mercilessly.

He was going to last all of five seconds.

Raking Sean’s back with his nails, blunt as they were he was making do their work, he slipped his hand under Sean’s shirt, smoothed the hairs on his stomach, scratching the hairs farther down that he had missed so much. Sean made those soft, hard grunts that meant he had gone to his own place.

He felt the arms on either side of him, corded as if with steel, then felt himself being lifted off his feet so that his toes barely touched the floor. He relaxed into Sean’s hold, feeling his climax building.

Sean leaned forward and slipped his tongue into his mouth and he spurted all over himself.

Sean got the rest of it out him, grinding harder into him, making the rest of his body go useless along with his knees. Flushed, Sean kept his eyes on their cocks, grinding against him as if meaning to put a stamp on him. 

While Sean chased his own climax he took his time unbuttoning his shirt, getting to his nipples and the pecs he so lusted after. He licked them, watching what it did to Sean, feeling what it did to him. Then he closed his eyes and bit on a nipple.

Sean covered him in come. Forced back against the door, he left his hand in Sean’s shirt and watched him come, euphoric from not having to make do with mere memory.

While Sean panted and dropped his head into his shoulder, he stroked his fingers in the back of his head. 

“Come here,” he slurred, unable to articulate any clearer. “The bedroom of this suite wants to say hi to you.”

He almost maimed them both trying to walk with their trousers around their ankles, which he had forgotten all about. Sean stumbled and caught them, and he dragged Sean into the bedroom.

~*~

Sean did give him that blow job.

He woke up in the middle of night thinking he had developed a fever while he had been asleep, only to look down and see Sean's head between his legs.

Sean pushed up his knee, kissing under it in revelation of a new, delicate strip of flesh, and he cried out, too much still in the throes of sleep to know what to do about it. 

His toes curled while Sean licked at it, kissed tenderly at it, and worried his teeth around it. He shot come all over his neck. Sean unhurriedly moved his mouth over and swallowed him whole, taking and sucking the rest of it, as though his cock was suddenly coated with his favorite sauce.

He slipped his hands into Sean’s hair and ran his fingers along his jaw, feeling the new beard. 

Floating in that delicious space between being awake and being asleep, he relaxed his body into Sean’s arms and drifted out of this world.

~*~

When he woke in the morning Sean was long gone.

But nothing short of a forklift would have pried him out of the bed.

Smiling, feeling sillier by the moment, but so happy, he saw memories of their time in Beverly Hills slowly burning to ashes before his eyes.

He patted over to the nightstand until he encountered his phone. Bringing it to his face, he checked what time it was.Then he turned it off airplane mode and set it down on the bed. A few seconds later his messages buzzed in. Lifting the phone once more, he checked the first one.

It was from Allison. 

It said: _Nicely done._

He lowered the phone, smiling, as he closed his eyes.

Well, he couldn’t take all the credit.

He had been about to roll over and enjoy the stickiness Sean had left all over him, when his phone buzzed with another text.

This one he pulled to him and looked at, and laughed, but it made him get up and go start a new day in the town of Johnston, Iowa.

This one was from Davey. It said: _Rise and shine, bud. You’ve got a man to catch._

~*~

_Continued._


End file.
